


40 Miles Of Bad Road

by carolinecrane



Series: traveling shoes [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-13
Updated: 2010-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt offers Puck some unsolicited advice, and Puck tries to take it to heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	40 Miles Of Bad Road

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for episode 2x04, "Duets".

Kurt just happens to be down the hall from Puck's locker when Puck finds out about Sam and Quinn. He's got a full view of Puck's reaction, but it's not like he's _hovering_ or anything, because Puck's gotten more bearable since he joined Glee, but that doesn't make them friends. In fact, most of the time Kurt doesn't think much about Puck at all, beyond appreciating his ability to hold a tune reasonably well, though his song choices continue to be tragic.

So he's not hovering or even looking for gossip, really. He just happens to be in the right place at the right time to see Puck storm down the hall, literally _punch_ his locker open, grab something from inside, and storm back out again. Kurt can only assume it's about the whole Sam-and-Quinn thing. It has to be; the only time Kurt's ever seen him smile in a way that doesn't make him look like a wild animal is when he's smiling at her.

When Mercedes finds him a few minutes later, he's still staring thoughtfully in the direction of Puck's dramatic exit.

"What?" she asks, glancing from Kurt's thoughtful expression to the crowd gathered around the wreck of Puck's locker.

"Nothing," Kurt answers, slipping his arm through hers to pull her in the other direction. "Just another teenage heartache."

Mercedes makes him describe the scene to her over Caramel Macchiatos, mining for details until finally Kurt purses his lips and accuses her of not being over Puck. When she claims she was never _under_ Puck, they make matching 'ew' sounds and look away from each other. But the truth is, Kurt's as distracted by hormones as the next teenage boy, and even though he's learned his lesson -- he _has_ \-- about straight boys and crushes, he's not blind.

Puck's...well, he's hot, objectively speaking. He's a bully and a brute and Kurt's just now starting to get used to being in the same room with him without trembling, but he's certainly easy on the eyes. He's not much smarter than Finn and his insistence on only singing songs written by Jews is a little strange, but he's certainly...pretty. Not that Kurt would ever say that to his face, because Puck hasn't actively assaulted him since he joined Glee, and it's really cut down on the number of swirlys he's had to endure this year.

They were sort of Puck's signature, as it turns out. Some things are sacred, even at McKinley.

So Kurt's heart doesn't stop when he walks into his house to find Puck sitting on the couch. His hands don't tremble even a little as he pulls his bag off his shoulder and sets it down, then carefully peels off his coat while Puck just...watches.

"Why are you in my house?"

Puck gestures vaguely toward the back of the house, which doesn't make any sense at all, unless that's where he's hidden the getaway vehicle or dead bodies or whatever it is he's done this time.

"I'm waiting for Finn. He wanted to talk to your dad about something."

"Oh."

For a minute Kurt just stands there, caught between the urge to leave Puck sitting in his living room looking a little bit like his dog just died, or saying...something. He has no idea what, because he's fairly sure they're not even the same _species_ , and he has no idea how to comfort someone who used to torture him by appointment.

But he knows how it feels, that rejection, and he's fairly sure that Puck's past the angry lashing out stage, at least if the way he's frowning in Kurt's general direction is any indication. Kurt glances down at his hands where they're folded in front of him, lip catching between his teeth when he sees that Puck's knuckles are crusted in dried blood.

He's not going to offer to clean them up, because this isn't one of his friends or his father and he does not have to take care of _Puck_ , for God's sake. But he winces a little, all the same, fingers sort of twitching at his side for a second or two before he finally drops into the nearest chair.

"What?" Puck asks, watching him now and Kurt can't decide if he liked it better when Puck looked like he was going to cry.

"A word of advice?"

"Uh...no, thanks?" Puck says, and it's just unsure enough that Kurt's lips curve into a faint smile.

"As satisfying as destruction of public property no doubt is, she's not worth landing yourself back in Juvenile Detention. You've already got a record, and if Figgins were to make an issue of your little tantrum back at your locker earlier, you'd probably be looking at more jail time."

Kurt pauses, waiting for the inevitable moment when Puck loses his temper and shuts Kurt's mouth for him. Except that really _would_ land him back in Juvie, if only because Burt's still too sick to actually kill Puck himself. So maybe he's not as dumb as Kurt assumed, because he just stays on the couch and looks at Kurt like he's never really seen him before.

"What I'm saying is, I know what it feels like not to be chosen. The difference is that I learned a long time ago, if you don't let them see how much it bothers you, they don't win."

"But you still don't get what you want."

Kurt shrugs, then he smiles again, a little bigger this time. "Welcome to real life."

Puck's still looking at him when Finn reappears, glancing from Kurt to Puck for a few bewildered moments before he clears his throat. "You...uh...you ready to go, dude?"

"Yeah," Puck says, standing up and following Finn toward the front door. He's almost out of the living room when he pauses in mid-stride, not quite looking back at Kurt as he says, "See you later, Hummel."

Kurt doesn't answer, not that it would matter if he did, because Puck's moving again almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. Besides, it's not like they're going to be friends or anything.

~

The next time Kurt sees Puck is the next day in Glee. He's too busy watching Mercedes and Santana to notice when Puck walks in, but when he throws himself into the chair next to Kurt, Kurt tears his attention away from his traitorous best friend long enough to raise an eyebrow at Puck.

"So your girl decide to ditch the fag hag routine and give full-on lesbian a try?"

"Thank you for that charming turn of phrase," Kurt says, but he's too distracted by the way Mercedes' and Santana's heads are bent together in private conference to put much heat behind it. "They bonded over Tina Turner and girl power during duet week, and now they're BFF or something. I have no idea."

"Don't try to understand women, dude," Puck says, and in spite of himself, Kurt laughs.

"Did you just offer me advice on girls?"

Puck shrugs, mouth quirking up into a sly half-grin, and Kurt has to admit, it's a nice mouth.

"Payback's a bitch."

Kurt's not positive, because he doesn't actually know Puck beyond the feel of his hands on Kurt when he's tossing Kurt in the dumpster, or the feel of his breath on Kurt's neck as he crowds him into a bathroom stall and grips the back of his head for a swirly, but he thinks that might have been a thank you.

"Anyway," Puck says, leaning back in his chair and nodding toward Mercedes and Santana, "Santana's only hanging out with Aretha to teach Brittany a lesson or something. As soon as she gets over it Brittany and Santana will be glued back together again, and then you can have your girl back."

"What lesson could anyone possibly hope to teach Brittany?" Kurt asks, against his better judgment, because he's really not sure he even wants to know. He glances over at Brittany anyway, frowning at the way she's gripping the sides of her chair as she stares at the back of Santana's head.

"Who the fuck knows. Santana can be a total bitch for no reason at all. Trust me, I'd know."

Kurt doesn't answer, partly because Schue chooses that moment to show up and start talking about this week's assignment, but mostly because Kurt honestly can't believe they're having this conversation. He can't believe they're having _any_ conversation, and when he catches Schue casting furtive glances in their direction he wonders if Schue's thinking the same thing.

Then Schue announces the theme for the week, and Kurt doesn't bother trying not to roll his eyes. But he's a teacher, and they're nothing if not predictable, every last one of them, so Kurt's not surprised when Schue casts another glance at Puck before he announces that this week they'll be singing about redemption.

Puck huffs a laugh under his breath and Kurt doesn't look over, but one side of his mouth lifts in a sympathetic smile. He waits until Schue gets going on examples, tuning out the depressingly predictable list of songs to lean a little closer to Puck.

"Aren't you and Santana...I mean, don't you...?"

He feels himself blushing, and when Puck laughs he curses his pale skin. But it's not the cruel laugh he's come to expect from Puck, so he suppresses the urge to roll his eyes and make a snide remark about how little Puck's sex life interests him. He's rewarded a moment later when Puck leans in even further, elbows braced on his knees and Kurt's really, really over that whole straight boy crush thing, but the sound of Puck's voice sends a little shiver down his spine anyway.

"Sure, we hook up. Puckzilla's got needs, dude. Doesn't mean I like her or anything."

"So you sleep with her, but you don't even like her?"

Puck shrugs, then he shifts a little in his seat, like maybe he's not exactly comfortable having this conversation. Or maybe he's just not comfortable having it with Kurt; there is that whole 'straight boy' thing, after all, and it's not like Finn's all that comfortable discussing things with Kurt, even now that Kurt's not harboring any not-exactly-secret delusions about their future together.

"It's just sex, not like it means anything."

And it's not like he'd _know_ , because he's as painfully virginal as Quinn used to pretend she was, in spite of Brittany's best efforts. So all Kurt's really got to go on are romantic notions that were ingrained at a very impressionable age by Hollywood and countless musicals, and the soft, sad look in his dad's eyes every time he mentions Kurt's mother.

"Shouldn't it, though?"

They're not friends. They're not going to be friends. They've only had two actual conversations that didn't involve threats of physical violence, and Kurt's not even a hundred percent sure Puck knows his first name. So he's not sure what makes him say it, and as soon as he does he wishes he could take it back. But Puck's just looking at him, head tilted a little like he's actually thinking about what Kurt said. Then he shakes his head and leans back in his chair, putting barely a foot of space between them, but it feels like a mile.

"No offense, Hummel, but your advice kind of sucks."

It's not exactly the reaction he was hoping for, but it puts them back on familiar ground, so Kurt just shrugs to show he hasn't suddenly started caring what Puck thinks or anything. Then he turns to the front of the room and pretends to listen to Schue arguing with Rachel about whether or not "Think Of Me" counts as a song about redemption.

~

Sam sings "Redemption Song" the very next day, of course, because he's the most obvious human being Kurt's ever met. Kurt spends his entire performance wondering how he could have thought for one second that Sam might be interesting enough to be gay. In the end he decides that it really was the bad dye job that threw him off, but still, it's annoying to have had a crush on someone who appears to think he's the second coming of Jack Johnson, however briefly it lasted.

He wonders what it says about his psychology that all his crushes to date have been on straight football players. He doesn't wonder for long, though, because if he's somehow overcompensating for the loss of one parent by fixating on the parent he did have, he so does not want to know, because ew, he is not gay for his _dad_.

He's not nursing any more crushes on straight boys, either. That's what he tells himself while he's staying up half the night searching for the perfect song, then trolling Youtube for the most updated versions to download illegally onto his iPod.

There's still a vague, fist-shaped dent in Puck's locker when Kurt stops in front of its owner the next morning. When Puck raises an eyebrow at Kurt's first-ever voluntary appearance at his locker Kurt considers explaining, but he's exhausted and he's barely had any coffee, and he _knows_ his eyes are looking puffy, regardless of Mercedes' reassurances, so he just hands over the guitar chords and lyrics he printed off the internet and walks away.

He tells himself it doesn't matter if Puck crumples them up and tosses them in the nearest trash can. He'd be throwing away a perfect opportunity, of course, but it's not like it _matters_ to Kurt. The only reason he lost hours of sleep searching for the perfect song for Puck to sing is for the good of the group, after all. He's got a good voice -- some might even say better than Finn's, Kurt thinks, though he never says it out loud -- but he's almost as obvious about his song choices as Sam, and they can't get to Nationals if people are going to go around being obvious all over the place.

He's still trying to convince himself of that when he hears someone call his name, then footsteps hurrying up the hall behind him.

"Hummel, wait up. Hey, Kurt."

Kurt turns to find Puck jogging down the hall toward him, one hand still clenched around the song Kurt chose for him. He knows what Puck's going to say; that he can choose his own songs, maybe, or he might just ask Kurt why he decided to help when nobody asked.

He braces himself to deliver a carefully rehearsed speech about the good of the group, but all Puck says is, "I only sing songs by Jews."

"I know," Kurt says, biting back the urge to explain exactly why Puck's rule doesn't even make any sense. "Bob Dylan is Jewish."

"Really?" Puck frowns down at the song in his hand for another second, then looks up at Kurt again. "I don't know this song. I mean, I know who the dude is and all, but I don't even know how it goes."

Kurt sighs and reaches into his bag for his headphones and iPod, already queued to Elvis Costello's version of "I Threw It All Away". He narrows his eyes as he hands them over, fingers pressing against Puck's for a second before he lets go.

"I want that back today," he says. "If you pawn it or something my dad will press charges."

"Relax," Puck says, and this time he is laughing at Kurt, but for some reason Kurt doesn't mind all that much. "I'm not going back to Juvie for an iPod."

He doesn't see Puck again until Glee. Kurt gets there early and claims his usual spot in the back. He drops his bag on the floor next to him and takes out his phone, pretending to be engrossed in a thrilling text conversation so he won't keep checking the door every three seconds to see whether or not Puck's walking in.

When Puck does finally show up he heads straight for the back row, dropping into the seat next to Kurt and holding out both his iPod and his headphones.

"Okay, so your advice doesn't totally suck."

~

Naturally, Mr. Schuester doesn't think Kurt's advice sucks either. He likes Puck's rendition of the song, at any rate. For awhile Kurt considered going with the more obvious "My Back Pages", but after he hears Puck perform the song he finally chose, he knows without a doubt that it was the right one.

He tells himself that it doesn't matter that Puck spends the entire song staring right at Quinn, or that she spends most of it making those sad cow eyes back at him. It's not like Kurt couldn't have predicted it would happen, and anyway he's doing all this for the good of the club. It has nothing to do with liking the fact that when Puck stops singing and puts down his guitar, he heads straight for the back row and sits down next to Kurt again.

Not that he's got a crush. It's just that Mercedes is still ignoring him whenever Santana's around, and it's kind of nice, having someone to commiserate with.

Except the next day Mercedes is back by his side, and Kurt finds himself a little annoyed by the fact that she's sitting in Puck's seat. He's not sure _when_ it became Puck's seat, exactly, but when Puck shows up and scowls at Mercedes, Kurt can see he's not the only one who's been thinking of it that way.

"What?" Mercedes snaps when she spots Puck glaring at her.

Puck just shrugs and doesn't answer, but he drops into the empty seat on Kurt's opposite side. He doesn't say anything, doesn't even _look_ at Kurt, so Kurt doesn't have to fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth when Puck sits down.

Kurt doesn't ask Mercedes what happened. He doesn't have to, because he has a clear view of Brittany and Santana, sitting side by side in the row in front of them. Santana looks just as unpleasant as ever, but instead of crossing her arms over her chest she's got one hand at her side, pinky linked with Brittany's between their chairs.

He glances at Puck when he spots it, but Puck just shrugs in answer to his unspoken question and slumps a little further in his seat. He stays that way until Mercedes gets up to do her song, but as soon as she's gone he leans forward and looks at Kurt.

"What song did you pick?"

"You wouldn't know it," Kurt answers, because he seriously doubts Puck's ever heard of _Spring Awakening_ , let alone "Those You've Known". And okay, maybe it's a _little_ obvious, but Kurt's willing to make sacrifices for the greater good now and then.

"So Santana's done being mad at Brittany?"

Puck shrugs again and sways a little further into Kurt's space. "She probably figured Aretha was never going to swing that way and went crawling back to Brittany. She's a total nympho, no way could she hold out for long."

Kurt opens his mouth to ask what is possibly the most obvious question of all time, but he catches himself just in time and snaps it shut again. He doesn't need to ask if that means Puck stopped putting out for Santana, and that only leaves _why_ , which is an answer Kurt isn't entirely sure he wants to hear.

Then again, he _has_ benefited from Kurt's other advice, so it follows that he'd test this theory too.

"What happened to your 'needs'?" Kurt asks, flushing bright and hot as soon as the words escape his lips, because he may be a lot of things, but suicidal isn't one of them, and he is _not_ flirting with Puck.

Except that Puck just _smirks_ like he knows exactly how irresistible he is, and that's probably true, so Kurt ignores him in favor of folding his arms over his chest and pretending to listen to the rest of Mercedes' song.

~

"You know, I never figured you for a Dylan fan," Puck says the next day.

He's leaning against the locker next to Kurt's, which is disturbing all on its own; the fact that he's not trying to stuff Kurt into the open locker in front of him is still a bit of a surprise.

Kurt thinks about lying, maybe telling Puck that when his father's not mainlining Mellencamp's catalogue that he mixes it up with some folk every now and then. Except anyone who's ever met his father probably wouldn't believe it anyway, so Kurt just shrugs and closes his locker.

"I'm not."

"So...what, you googled Jew singers and picked a song?"

"Well, there was a little more thought to it than that, but essentially, yes," Kurt says, cheeks burning but his chin's high and defiant, because if Puck's going to kill him over this, he's at least going to retain his self-respect.

For a minute Puck just looks at him, and he's been doing that a lot lately, so Kurt should be getting used to it. He's not sure he'll ever get used to Puck looking at him and actually _seeing_ him, though, not after all the times Puck shoved him or tossed him in the dumpster without a second thought.

"Thanks, Hummel," he finally says. "That was pretty cool of you."

Before Kurt remembers how to talk Puck's pushing off the lockers and walking away, and a second later he's gone. Not that Kurt has any idea what to say to that, because he's not entirely convinced he didn't just hallucinate the entire conversation. There's no way he ever expected to hear Puck say the words 'thank you', and he's pretty sure that's the second time Puck's thanked him in a week.

~

He doesn't see Puck again until Glee. He's already there when Kurt arrives, sitting in his usual spot in the back row. When Kurt walks in Puck looks up, catching his eye and raising an eyebrow. Like he's issuing some sort of challenge, and Kurt blushes even though he has no idea what he's being challenged to do, exactly.

Frankly, at the moment just walking across the room is a challenge, and Kurt feels his knees shake a little as he climbs to the back row and slides carefully into the chair next to Puck's. He sets his bag on the floor by his chair, leaning over to dig inside as though there's anything at all in there he needs, because the second he straightens up he's going to have to look at Puck.

Kurt's going to look at him, and Puck's going to be looking right back at him, and then he'll know that in spite of his best efforts, Kurt's developed a -- completely, utterly predictable and totally humiliating -- crush. Because Puck's not exactly insightful or anything, but he's not completely brainless, and thanks to Finn, Kurt knows exactly how subtle he isn't when he's attracted to someone.

So Puck's going to know, then Puck's going to kill him, and it's not like Kurt can trust Carole to make sure Burt sticks to his diet.

But he can't spend all of Glee with his face in his bag, so finally he takes a deep breath and sits up. When he glances over Puck's watching him, and as soon as their eyes meet Kurt's mouth goes dry. Which is, of course, the moment Mr. Schuester chooses to call him forward for his song.

Kurt climbs back down the stairs with as much grace as he can manage, clearing his throat a couple times and hoping the fact that he knows every song from _Spring Awakening_ backward and forward will get him through the next five minutes.

When the music starts he opens his mouth to sing, coming in more or less on cue. Technically it's a duet, but he thinks he does a reasonable job of pulling it off as a solo. Anyway, it's just a stupid exercise, and he's pretty sure Mr. Schuester only chose this theme to teach Puck some kind of lesson. As though Schue's going to teach him anything through song that he didn't already learn in prison.

He glances up at Puck, face flushing all over again when he finds Puck leaning forward and watching. He's got that sort of predatory stare going on, definitely, which Kurt's pretty sure is just his natural state, but today he looks kind of...thoughtful.

Well.

Thoughtful for Puck, anyway, and Kurt blinks and looks away before he starts wondering _what_ Puck's thinking and loses his place in the song.

Somehow he manages to finish on key, taking a moment to soak up a well-deserved round of applause before he takes his seat again. Mercedes is on him as soon as he sits down, and he appreciates the enthusiasm and all, but he knows she's only laying it on thick because she feels bad about basically ignoring him for weeks. And he minded a lot, even after this whole... _whatever_ with Puck started, but at the moment he sort of wishes she'd forget he was in the room again.

By the time she's done Schue's talking again, about Regionals this time and that's worth listening to, so Kurt tries to forget the warm presence to his left and focuses his attention on the front of the room. It's pretty much a losing battle.

~

Mercedes pounces on him again at the end of practice, and by the time Kurt manages to extricate himself from the conversation, Puck's long gone. Not that it matters, he tells himself, swallowing the lie along with a large helping of disappointment. He doesn't even know why he was expecting Puck to wait for him, because they're still not friends. They don't even talk to each other, really, and one arched eyebrow and a little smirk don't necessarily mean anything.

Kurt isn't thinking about how much he'd really like them to mean something, because the truth is that he should hate Puck, and the fact that he's nursing yet another hopeless crush on someone who's ruined more of Kurt's wardrobe than the rest of the football team combined...well, there's no other word besides 'pathetic'.

By the time he reaches the parking lot he's almost convinced himself that he's over it, but when he finds Puck leaning against the driver's side of his Navigator, he forgets what he was getting over in the first place. He forgets how to talk too, and apparently he forgets how to walk, because he stops dead ten feet away from Puck and stares.

And he'd never admit it out loud, but Kurt has to acknowledge at least privately that Finn was sort of right. He'd warned Kurt that his inability to keep his inappropriate crushes under wraps was going to get someone in trouble. Finn had been concerned for Sam's reputation, of course, but as it turns out, he should have been concerned for Kurt's life, because Puck's definitely going to kill him.

"So I took your advice," Puck says, and okay, that's not at _all_ what Kurt was expecting.

"Oh?" he asks, voice faint and he knows his face is flushed again, but he's hoping Puck will chalk it up to the chill in the air.

"Yeah." Puck pushes off the side of the Navigator, and Kurt's too busy bracing himself for impact to complain about his paint job. "I cut Santana loose."

"So I gathered."

"I figured maybe you were onto something with that whole 'sex should mean something' theory. I mean, I still say sometimes sex is just sex, but maybe it's better if you actually like the person you're hooking up with."

"I'm thrilled I could help," Kurt says, fingers tightening hard around the strap of his bag as he watches Puck take a few steps toward him. There's a voice in the back of his head screaming, "Run!", but Kurt's feet are rooted to the ground and all he manages to do is sway backward a little when Puck steps right into his personal bubble.

"But here's the thing," Puck says, leaning even closer, and Kurt shivers at the feeling of Puck's breath on his cheek. "I've still got those needs."

There's only one explanation for any of this, Kurt decides when Puck's hand lands on his waist. He's hallucinating after all; he has to be. He's fallen and given himself a terrible, terminal head injury, and he's lying on his death bed dreaming up one last humiliation at the hands of Noah Puckerman. That's the only rational explanation, because in real life Puck would not curl his fingers around Kurt's hip and tug him forward, and he definitely would not press his mouth to Kurt's and kiss him in a way that's at once similar to and nothing at all like the kisses Brittany assaulted him with.

And it's just a hallucination, so Kurt figures there's no harm in letting himself kiss Puck back. Just to see what it's like, even if it's only his imagination's version of Puck. Except that the kiss feels pretty real, and when he feels Puck's _needs_ pressing against his hip Kurt gasps against his mouth and jerks his head away.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demands, twisting out of Puck's grip and wiping an angry hand across his mouth.

"Give me a break, you've been panting after me all week," Puck says, smirking like he's actually enjoying this, and Kurt remembers too late to look around for the rest of the football team. Except there's no one around, and not even Puck would take a joke this far, would he?

"You're not gay."

Puck shrugs and takes a step forward, rolling his eyes when Kurt backs away. "So I'm broadening my horizons."

"Since when?" Kurt asks, because as far as he knew, Puck went into teenager prison as a card-carrying heterosexual. "Oh my God, did you have some traumatic gay experience in prison? Is this payback because someone made you their bitch?"

For a second Puck frowns at him like he has no idea what Kurt's talking about, but when he finally gets it he laughs and shakes his head.

"No, Hummel, I didn't get gang raped in Juvie or anything. Don't get me wrong, it fucking sucks there and I'm never going back if I can help it, but I wasn't in there that long. Besides, they made me see a shrink on, like, the second day, and when I told her about Quinn giving up our kid I think she felt bad for me, because she got me moved to a private room pretty fast."

He pauses and runs a hand over his scalp, and Kurt finds himself wondering what Puck's skin feels like. He's wondered for a long time if Puck's scalp is scratchy like his dad's stubble a few hours after shaving, or if it's really as soft as it looks.

"Anyway, the shrink said I was burying my abandonment issues with meaningless sex. At first I thought it was bullshit, but she also said my mom tried to make up for my dad splitting by letting me get away with murder, and that's definitely true, so I figured maybe she knew what she was talking about."

Kurt's not sure what's weirder: the fact that Puck not only talked to a psychiatrist, but that he listened to her, or the fact that he seems to think going gay is going to fix whatever's wrong with him. And clearly there's a lot wrong with him if he thinks he can just kiss Kurt like that without any explanation whatsoever. At the very least he deserves a cup of coffee first.

"Do you seriously expect me to believe a psychiatrist told you that you should try making out with a guy as a solution to your abandonment issues?"

"The making out with a guy part never came up," Puck admits, shrugging like it's no big deal that he just kissed Kurt as some sort of psychology experiment. And maybe for him it really isn't a big deal, but it's the first time Kurt's ever kissed another boy, and he sort of wanted that to mean something.

"Look, what I've been doing obviously hasn't been working, right? So I figured maybe I should try it your way. Lay off the hookups and, I don't know, try hanging out with somebody I actually like."

"So you picked me."

"Believe me, dude, I'm just as surprised as you. All that time we were tossing you in the dumpster I figured you were just some lame dork. I didn't know that under the weird clothes and the attitude, you were actually kind of cool."

Kurt's pretty sure that if he squints hard enough, Puck just paid him a compliment. But he's still busy trying to come to terms with the fact that Puck's...well, he's sort of asking Kurt to go out with him. And it's Puck, so there's definitely making out implied, along with other things that make Kurt's stomach tie into a tangled mess of knots. Still, it's _Puck_ , and there's a good chance he'll change his mind tomorrow and toss Kurt in the dumpster just to prove a point.

When Puck moves toward him this time Kurt doesn't back away, but when a hand lands on his hip again he reaches up to flatten his palm against Puck's chest. "Wait."

"What?" Puck says, and now he just sounds annoyed. He's never been known for his patience, though, and he did just as much as admit that he's used to getting his way, so it's probably to be expected. But Kurt's always been pretty good at getting his way, too, so he holds his ground and keeps his hand planted right in the center of Puck's -- very, very solid -- chest.

"If you think I'm just going to roll over..."

"I figured we could work up to that," Puck interrupts, and Kurt blushes hard when Puck grins at him. A hand closes over Kurt's, fingers sliding through his and Kurt's so distracted by the fact that Puck's _holding his hand_ that he doesn't notice Puck getting closer until it's too late.

Then there's a mouth on his neck, warm and wet and it definitely doesn't _feel_ like Puck's going to change his mind in the morning. But it's still Puck, and this is still the sort of thing that doesn't happen to Kurt.

"I'm...God...serious," Kurt murmurs, pulling out of Puck's grip with an effort, and he knows he only manages because Puck lets him. When he reaches a more or less safe distance he takes a deep breath, straightening his clothes and sparing a moment to mourn the mess of wrinkles in his new English Laundry shirt. "You can hardly expect me to trust you, considering."

"Fine." He growls the word through gritted teeth, sending a fresh shiver straight to Kurt's groin, and for a second he can't remember why he made Puck stop. "Jesus, Hummel, you're more work than Quinn was."

"Maybe that's because you never threw her in a dumpster."

Puck lets out a heavy sigh like he knows Kurt's right, but he was sort of hoping they could just gloss over that part. And there's a part of Kurt that wishes he hadn't brought it up, because it just makes the fact that he let Puck kiss him even more unsettling. But that doesn't change the fact that it happened, and Kurt might be a little pathetic when he's got a crush, but he's not putting out for anybody until he's sure it won't happen again.

"Look, you were right the other day," Puck says, hands flexing at his sides like he's trying not to touch, and Kurt tries to ignore the thrill that shoots through him at the idea that Puck's having trouble resisting touching _him_. "When you said I know what it feels like not to be wanted. Quinn didn't want me, and that fucking sucked. She thinks I'm a Lima loser just like everybody else does. She said she didn't, but she didn't think I was good enough to be a dad to our kid, so obviously that was a lie."

"I don't think you're a loser."

The smile that gets him isn't one he's seen before. It's not quite the way Puck used to smile at Quinn, like they had a secret no one else knew, which...look how that turned out. It's not the wild animal smile either, equal parts dangerous and devastatingly sexy. It's just a smile, simple and honest and until he sees it, Kurt doesn't even know Puck's capable.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I get that you think you're better than everybody in this town, and maybe you are. You're sure as hell braver than a lot of those assholes I used to hang out with. But you went out of your way this week to offer me shitty advice, and you didn't treat me like I was diseased just because I got high and did something stupid that got me busted. Then you spent all that time looking for a song when you didn't have to."

He pauses again, and Kurt's not sure what Puck's expecting him to say, but he's too caught up in one part of Puck's speech to pay much attention to the rest.

"Used to?"

Puck frowns at him for a second, and it's kind of cute, the way Kurt can almost see him playing back what he said to figure out what Kurt's talking about. When he gets it he shakes his head and grins, more familiar this time but still softer than Kurt's ever seen.

"Yeah. You think any of those dicks are gonna hang out with me once they know about us? I'm gonna get slushied every day for the rest of my life."

"Probably just the rest of high school," Kurt says, but he barely registers the sound of Puck's laugh, because he's too busy trying to reconcile the Puck he's known for years with the Puck who's willing to take daily slushie facials for a chance to be with Kurt.

"So are we gonna do this or what?" Puck asks, and he sounds angry, but Kurt's spent a lot of time around him in the past week, and he thinks he's starting to recognize the signs that tell him Puck's nervous.

"I need some time," Kurt answers, and he hates himself a little for saying it when Puck sighs and closes his eyes. But it's still _Puck_ , and Kurt's maybe a little lovesick, but he's not stupid.

Then Puck opens his eyes again, and in place of the nervousness is a determination that Kurt's seen plenty of times before. "Give me your phone."

"Why?"

"For fuck's sake, Kurt, would you just trust me for one minute? Please?"

It's the 'please' that gets him, which makes Kurt as predictable as Sam, probably, but he reaches into his bag and hands over his phone anyway.

Puck flips it open and punches buttons for awhile, then he glances up at Kurt. "I'm putting my number in your phone. That way when you're lying awake all night tonight kicking your own ass for walking away from all this, you can text me and beg me to take you back."

He's grinning as he says it, but he's putting _someone's_ number in Kurt's phone, and the weird thing is, Kurt's pretty sure he means it. He's pretty sure Puck's not wrong about him lying awake all night, too. Kurt takes the phone when Puck hands it back, glancing down at it for a second before he slides it into his pocket.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Kurt feels like he should say something else, but they've already been standing in the parking lot long enough for it to start to get dark, and now that the sun's down it's getting cold. He tugs his bag up his shoulder and takes a step toward his Navigator, then he thinks better of it and turns back toward Puck. He opens his mouth to say something, but he still can't find the right words, so instead he stretches up to his full height and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Puck's mouth. Then he pulls away and climbs into his car without looking back to see Puck watching him.

~

At midnight Kurt finally goes to bed. He's avoided calls from Mercedes and Tina, blew Artie off on Google Chat and even left Burt's entertainment for the evening to Carole. When his dad looks at him funny Kurt claims his head is throbbing, and it isn't even a lie. He just leaves out the part about _why_ he has a headache, then he locks himself in his room and stares at his cell phone until he finally forces himself to go to bed.

He's still wide awake three hours later, staring at the ceiling and hating Noah Puckerman for doing this to him on a school night. Puck's probably sleeping like a baby, snoring like a Neanderthal and not losing a second of beauty rest over the fact that Kurt's just a few streets over, driving himself crazy.

At 4:15 he picks up his phone, lets out a frustrated breath and opens a new text message. He starts typing and deletes it six times before he finally settles on: _Fine. You get ONE chance. Don't screw it up._

He presses send, then he tosses his phone on the nightstand and tries not to spend the rest of the night blushing.

~

"What happened to you?" Mercedes asks the next morning when she stops by his locker. Kurt rolls his eyes, immediately regretting it when his headache kicks back into high gear.

"Insomnia," he says, reaching into his locker for his first period books and a pair of sunglasses. "I spent the entire night lying awake trying to work out the perfect costumes for Regionals. That is, unless Schue changes the entire set list at the last minute. Again."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks it for the sixteenth time that morning, stomach turning at the stubbornly blank screen. He checks to make sure the ringer's on, just in case, then he scowls and shoves the stupid thing back in his pocket. He's already checked to make sure his text message sent and he didn't just dream the entire night before, but he's considering checking again when he looks up and spots Puck striding down the hall toward him.

"What the..." he hears Mercedes say, but he doesn't really register the words, because all he can see is Puck bearing down on him, looking dangerous and hot -- in a tragically Midwestern chic way -- in his letterman jacket and those tight jeans Kurt pretends he's never noticed, and carrying a white paper coffee cup in one hand.

And Puck keeps coming, backing Kurt against his locker and just for a second Kurt wonders if this is where he gets to hear the completely unfunny punchline, but then Puck's planting his free hand on the locker next to his shoulder and grinning like he's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"Babe," Puck says, gaze traveling from Kurt's eyes down to his mouth, "you look like shit."

Then Puck leans in and kisses him. And he'd complain about the insult, maybe even about the completely unimaginative term of endearment, but he's too busy sliding his arms around Puck's neck and kissing him back like his life depends on it. At the moment, it sort of feels like it does.

He hears Mercedes gasp somewhere near his elbow, and he's sure they're drawing a crowd by now, but he lets Puck take his time memorizing every inch of Kurt's mouth. It's the least he can do, really; after all, he was kind of a tease the night before.

When Puck finally does pull away Kurt smiles at him, and he doesn't even mind when Puck laughs at him and kisses him again. He rolls his eyes when Puck holds up the coffee, but he takes it anyway, because he's never had a boyfriend before, so if this one wants to bring him coffee, Kurt's not going to argue.

"Somebody better start talking," Mercedes says, but Kurt's too busy letting himself be dragged away from the lockers to answer.

"Later, Aretha."

Puck's arm slides around Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt tosses what he hopes is an apologetic smile over his shoulder as he lets Puck drag him down the hall. And he's not planning to be one of those helpless boyfriends who lets his man lead him around by the nose, but he's sleep-deprived and probably suffering from post-traumatic shock, so he gives himself a pass for the day.

"One chance, huh?"

"I think that's fair, considering," Kurt says, and when he steals a glance at Puck he can see it's more than Puck was really expecting.

"So how am I doing so far?"

"Seriously? It's been, like, three minutes."

"But it's been a great three minutes, right?" Puck asks, grinning when Kurt rolls his eyes.

"The coffee's a good start," Kurt concedes, lifting the cup to his mouth to hide a smile. "Ask me again after lunch."

**Author's Note:**

> The song Kurt downloads for Puck is [Elvis Costello's cover of Bob Dylan's "I Threw It All Away"](http://www.sendspace.com/file/g1e5l6).


End file.
